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Текст (слова) песни: Boogie Down Productions - Ruff Ruff



[krs-one] * voice echoing*

Think you dope? want this title?

Then you better come step up or step off!

[freddie foxxx]

Yo check this out, all jokes aside

Lets get busy

[krs-one]

Word! blastmaster krs-one in the house

Hah, everybody for some reason wanna be a gangsta

You dont know nuttin about bein no gangsta

[freddie foxxx]

Worrrrrrrd up! aiyyo check this out

This is freddie f-o-x-x-x

And guess whats next

[krs-one]

Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat

Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack

Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat

Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack

Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack

They jump pon the mic, an wan fi do it like dat

But ahh, now dis a krs, me nah takes dat

When me open up to work, I put a cape on me back

Then me, fly all around the emcee world

Krs, the artical, is not to be [*changes from patois*]

Fucked with, ? with, or tampered with

Dont give a fuck if you wanna riff

But when you say kris, already derivative of kris

My eyebrows lift and that ass I get with (huh)

As a matter of fact, I attack, hijack

Set back, your career, like a quarterback

That broke his back, my tongue is like a bat

Your eyell get black, youll need an icepack (rrrrruff!)

Im all that, come with your whole pack

Youll be prayin to the God of isaac

So freddie foxxx, its time to get tough [uh-huh]

Just, get on the mic and get ruff, ruff

[freddie foxxx]

Soon as I flex, cause Im about to rip up shop

Its the return of the hip-hop master, freddie the foxxx

(bo!) rappers that see me, dont even speak, just walk

Cause Im the maddest nigga in new york (hah!)

I see a rapper in the crowd that I dont like

I wanna fight, so when I drop the mic

Ima jump off the stage, bumrush your crowd to whip

(suckers) that wanna be pimps

How I heard it said that a pimpll sell his ass

If his hoe wont, but freddie foxxx dont

Cover your chest g, you better wear a bulletproof vest see

Cause Im about to leave this place a motherfuckin mess

Open hearts on the floor as I explore

Rappers that wanted to be more than number four

Number ones a hard spot; either you fight

Or get shot, so this is what I got (bo!)

Three tec-9s, my uzi, ten grenades, my razor blades

And I aim to get paid!

So who wanna step to this, dont come soft

Cause ima straight up knock niggaz off (pom! pom!)

And when the cops come to get me

Ima take a dead body, and bop ten cops with me

Im sick and tired of hearin rappers talk smack

About whos nice, and whos whack, motherfuck that

They know my style, and my rep, every stage

That I stepped on - I was the rapper they slept on

But yall rappers keep sleepin - cause when they plant

Bombs in your house, ima wake you up and punch you

In your motherfuckin mouth, knock your wife out

Take your sons to safety, cause theyre just kids

And I wanna raise em to face me

And when they get a little bigga

Ima mark them little niggaz, and put their fingerprints

On the trigger -- double homicide, call the vice

Another rapper and his family with no life

Yeah youre mr. tough and, youre full of stuff and

And freddie foxxx caught you bluffin

I got you in my torture chamber and you scream

Oh God damn, its like _silence of the lambs_

But I dont mangle em and eat em

I take mcs to the war zone, and there I defeat em

It gets much worse, with every verse

As the f-r-e-d-d-i-e f-o-x-x-x, hurts!

Punishes, stomps, smashes, crushes, maims

You suckers know my name!

Aiyyo kris! Im rhymin long enough (say what? )

Get on the mic and get ruff, ruff

[krs-one]

This is the year that I go all out (why? )

Edutainments what Im all about (and)

I dont eat franks with the sauerkraut (cause)

Because I dont eat pork from the tail to the snout

(well kick it) get on down, to the hip hip hop

Before I start, peace to scott larock! (word)

Now let me drop the style that has action

Cause many mcs dont believe theyre rappin

Theyre lost, crazy mixed-up in their identity

This is not, what hip-hop is meant to be (word up)

I come unique, I cant be beat, hardcore street

For the kids, with a hundred-and-fifty on their feet

(kick it) I dont compete, I defeat and delete ya

Then critique ya, all mcs retreat, here comes the tcha

Chewin suckers like smuckers

Hittin on, sittin on, shittin on, flippin on motherfuckers

Yeah, Im like the movie _aliens_

I hide inside your right hand man, when you think you got me

Bam! my head comes out your chest

A mutilated mess of nastyness

Chunks of bloody flesh, yes krs on the slaughter

Specialize in instant rhyme style, you simply add water

Evian, I pull the string then

Ring-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding-ding

Back in the days, I wrote +south bronx+

The juice crew got stomped, lick two shot

Pom! pom! really it was magics fault

Always wanna diss somebody, he got put to a halt

Its wack, when a sucker dj babbles on

Soupin up mcs to battle on song

Thats wrong, but in any event, I drop the classic

In 1992 the original it aint plastic

Everybody know, bdp, is fantastic, burn like acid

Credit card plastic, stretch like elastic

Love and respect is the tactic

Bam! in your motherfuckin face

Krs in the place

I never liked listening to bitches and hoes anyway

(fi-yah!)

[freddie foxxx]

Well you know I like hoes, cause Im a mack

But I dont like the wack tracks, youknowhatimsayin?

And for all your suckers out there

That underestimate the militant mack, get the bo-zack

You know what I mean? (word) word!

[krs-one]

You know why?

Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat

Every posse wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is wack

Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, you know dem a wack

Every posse wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is wack

[freddie foxxx]

Yes.. fresh.. for nineteen-ninety-two you suckers * echoes *

[krs-one]

Motherfuckers! brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! * echoes to fade *

 

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